Thursday, August 19, 2010
As I was coming home from work today on the M11, a man with a strange glint in his eye invited me to a party this Sunday at a church downtown. He was sure that I'd get along with so-and-so, and so I must come. I gave the requisite polite eye-contact while, largely, letting him speak at length about this must-be-attended soiree. When there was a break in his monologue, I whispered a "thank you" and averted my eyes. I had survived the uncomfortable bus talk that can sometimes happen when loonies are sitting next to you and want to unload. Well, had I really survived? I few blocks later, he began an even greater oration directed at all the back-of-the-bus passengers about the church party, and, incidentally(?), about his former life in showbiz and subsequent downward spiral into drug use and general nuttiness. One block later I was off the "short bus" and walking, unmolested, toward my building.
I know it's a new year, new leaf, new attitude, and new what-not, but I can't shake feeling bugged about the same old things. Here...
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